My intention was to skip deep-cleaning the house this week, because of a post-surgery appointment with the ophthalmologist, interrupting my household routine. I would, on the day previous to the appointment, do a quick-clean of the house, and leave it at that. I guess the older we get the more we cling to routines, any disruption of which becomes a threat to our peace of mind.

I'd cleaned the bathrooms, and the kitchen, and decided to dry mop a few of the downstairs rooms, vacuum lightly, and wash the floor in the foyer, the laundry room, the powder room, the kitchen and the breakfast room. Not on my hands and knees as I do weekly, but using one of those stick-mops and a pail of soapy water. I don't very often deviate from my usual technique, but with my concern for a quick and easy dispatch, decided I'd resort to that.

The floor mop had an old sponge in it last used months ago when I'd washed the tile floors in the basement rooms. We had put away three replacement sponges that fit into the mechanism so I discarded the old one and attempted to replace it with one of the new ones. These replacement sponges had been purchased years ago, never used, never taken out of their original packaging.

I began the process of washing the first of the floors using the newly-installed sponge and piping-hot soapy water. And the sponge simply began falling apart; small bits, large chunks, it disintegrated even as I was using it. I struggled to remove it, and replaced it with another of the new, unused sponges. And it too fell apart, even while I was using it to wash the floors. Same with the third one; the cellulose sponges had simply become denaturized over time.

I hadn't got very far with them, unfortunately, in washing the floors. And had to resort, after all, to getting down on hands and knees to finish the job properly. Feeling extremely irritated about the failed initiative.